


i am alive; i am awake

by WhatsATerrarium



Series: leading us back to our golden coast [3]
Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: DIIIIIID SOMEONE SAYYYYYY INCONSISTENT THEMES?, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Morning Cuddles, YOU KNOW IT, and here let’s throw a sleeping at last title on it bc I don’t know what the fuck to call it, i said inconsistent themes, it was me, its basically done, me? Continuing to write out of chronological order?, the fic that comes before this in the series is in the works but hey why not post this now, this fic has inconsistent themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium
Summary: “Hi,” she responds, her grin and her tone are almost teasing and she sees him blush a little when he notices that.  “How did you sleep?”
Relationships: Joan Bright/Owen Thompson | Agent Green
Series: leading us back to our golden coast [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574065
Kudos: 12





	i am alive; i am awake

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from “Taste” by Sleeping At Last, as always. Seriously go listen to that song.

Joan’s changed her mind.

Owen is asleep. She can hear him breathing softly and he looks entirely peaceful beside her, in her arms. Her head is tucked under his shoulder and her arms are wrapped around him as she lays on her side and he lies on his back. She nuzzles in closer and he makes a slight noise that she thinks sounds almost like relief. And, sure enough, when she glances upwards at his face, she sees a slight smile settling across it.

She had told herself that she hadn’t wanted things to be any different. What she didn’t count on was that things could change for the better. Small things, like the fact that she gets to wake up to this, for one.

She gets to see him when he’s vulnerable now. Once again, she’s the one who gets to hold him close and whisper reassurances to him when he’s breaking down. She sees him when he’s angry now, too. She gets to witness his rants again. They’re few and far between, but when he gets upset, whether it’s over politics, or issues at work, or just little things, he’s still a person, and when he lets things build up, they explode eventually. And when that happens, he rants like no one would expect him to be able to.

He gets so upset, so worked up, and Joan  _ loves it _ . He abandons that pushover side of himself for just a minute, and lets himself light up with anger and frustration. She likes seeing him angry. It’s a reminder of how intense his emotions can be, how much he genuinely cares about things.

She can open up to him too now. She’s finally started allowing herself to feel, and so now she’s begun breaking down. But now when she does, she isn’t alone. She can cry, and rant, and doubt herself, and express every terrible, painful thing she’s feeling. He’ll just listen. He’ll listen to her, he’ll hold her, he’ll reassure her, he’ll stroke her hair and he’ll press kisses all along her cheeks and her neck and her forehead and her lips until the spinning in her head stops.

She likes it when he kisses her. She likes kissing him too. She likes getting wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him as deeply as she wants. Of all the things she missed about Owen in their time apart, the physical aspects were the only ones she never even tried to deny herself the thought of. Things like messing up his hair, leaving hickeys on his neck, kissing him hungrily until they’re both gasping for breath. Things like what they’d done last night.

And just as she starts to recall the night before, she hears him begin to stir. She watches him yawn and shift around in the bed for just a second before he opens his eyes slowly, then immediately perks up a little. “Hey,” he breathes softly when he catches sight of her. Something is lighting up in his eyes seemingly just from looking at her, and that makes the fireworks in her heart set off.

“Hi,” she responds, her grin and her tone are almost teasing and she sees him blush a little when he notices that. “How did you sleep?”   
  
“Wonderfully. You?” he asks with a lopsided grin, traces of the exhaustion he’s always so good at hiding on his face.

“How could I not sleep fine with you here?” she responds, smirking a little just to see him blush more.

And unsurprisingly, he blushes profusely. He rolls over onto his side so that he’s facing her and drapes one arm around her carefully, pulling her closer to him. She reaches her hand around his neck to run her fingers through his hair. “We should get up and have breakfast,” she yawns, “it’s late.”

She watches him glance at the clock on his bedside table, then shrug it off and turn back to her and, instead of responding, plant a kiss on her forehead and wrap his arm back around her.

“Owen…” she says warningly, hiding the smile threatening to break out across her face.

  
“M’tired.”

“We have to get up at some point.”

“Some point,” he agrees, “just not now.”

Then again, the look on his face is too peaceful for her to ignore. It’s that that look is rare, that it comes in bursts. Every so often, there will be minutes where his head isn’t rushing at a million miles an hour, where he’s not in any way stressed, or worried, or rushing himself to accomplish the next big thing. And those short, beautiful moments show in a soft smile, shining eyes, and relaxed cheek muscles.

She knows it so well, and only partially because she’s the same.

The rushing in her head, the weight on her shoulders, it’s always there. Except for in those little, radiant moments. She’s not removed from the world then, she’s seeing it more clearly, without its constant burdens blurring her vision.

This isn’t one of those moments for her, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still happy, just lacking calm. Besides, she knows how precious those moments are when they roll around. So she doesn’t argue this time.

Joan thinks she knows by now that not everyone lives their life this way. Not everyone lives feeling as though the burdens they bear are ceaseless, as though their minds never stop leaping from one big, terrifying idea to the next, as though in their own life, they come secondary to some grand scheme, as though they aren’t fully living. 

She’s not fully living, she’s letting her body, mind, and emotions go through the same old cycles, and she has no problem with this. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t exhilarating when the clockwork stops and the world seems just in reach.

But this is how she lives. It’s how they live. Brightening up the machine work for each other, paving colorful pathways on the roads from one big, terrifying idea to the next. They help each other find beauty in their burdens, and they rejoice in unison when one’s weight is lifted.

So she’ll rejoice with him for this short burst.

**Author's Note:**

> So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: whats_a_terrarium  
> Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251  
> Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium  
> Twitter: whatsaterrarium
> 
> If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)


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